


Show Me Your Scars

by secretlydickgrayson



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4833278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretlydickgrayson/pseuds/secretlydickgrayson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "Show me your scars," Roy/Jason (maybe about Jay's autopsy scars?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Me Your Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for a prompt fill on my blog and decided it was good enough to post up here! Hope you enjoy! - Wing

Jason was never shirtless. Even on the beach, he’d worn one. When Roy asked, he mumbled something about burning. Roy thought it was bullshit. 

“Sunscreen exists, y’know. I’m pale as you and I’m fine.” 

“Maybe I don’t want to steal your title as the king of freckles.” 

“You can’t get on my level,” Roy said. And then the conversation moved on, and he put it out of his mind. 

Until now, when Jay’s lips are against his. Roy didn’t picture it like this, figured when they finally got together it’d be all bruising kisses and fingernails and too much tequila. But Jason was sitting on the hotel bed, cleaning his guns, and Roy had flopped down on the bed beside him. 

He always liked to watch Jay clean his guns, liked to watch his long fingers going through movements they’d done a million times. Jason didn’t even look at them half the time. So Roy sat up and rested his chin on Jay’s shoulder. 

“Handsy,” Jason muttered, focusing on the gun in his hands. 

“Mmhmm. It’s part of my charm.” 

“You’ve got about as much charm as a sewer rat. No, that’s an insult to rats everywhere.” 

“More’n you.” 

Jason turned his head to look at Roy, and suddenly their lips were only inches apart. Looking back, Roy’s not sure who kissed whom. It’s enough to know that it happened. 

And it led to now, with Jay’s hands up under his shirt and running all over his back. It’s almost funny how simple it is, how natural it feels to be kissing the stupid smirk off his stupid lips. Jason pulls Roy’s shirt over his head and kisses down his neck. Roy has just enough presence of mind left to realize that nudity should be reciprocal, so he reaches for the hem of Jason’s shirt. 

And that’s when everything falls apart. Jason pulls back so quickly Roy doesn’t register it until he’s halfway across the room, hands yanking his shirt back down. 

“The shirt stays on,” Jason says. He’s not shaking, but he’s not  _not._

“Whoa. Dude, I’m not gonna do anything while you’re like this.” Roy doesn’t move. He’s walked Jason through panic attacks before. This isn’t the worst he’s seen by far. It’s probably not full-blown yet, probably not too late to head off, but sudden movements are generally a bad idea. He raises his hands to show Jay that there’s nothing in them. 

“I’m keeping my shirt on,” Jason repeats. 

“Hey. Okay. It’s your prerogative. It’s just me, dude. Just Roy.” 

Jason’s face relaxes a little. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Roy says. 

“No.” Jason chews his lip, then balls his hands in the hem of his shirt. 

“I’m not gonna think anything of whatever it is. I’m scarred up to hell, you know.” 

“Not like this you’re not.” 

And then Roy gets it. 

“Oh shit. You’ve got autopsy scars, don’t you?” 

Jason won’t meet his eyes, but he nods. His balled-up fists have moved to his sides now. 

“You don’t have to let me see anything you don’t want to, but I’m not going to judge you.” He moves slowly over to Jason’s side, making sure Jay sees everything he’s doing. He slowly puts an arm around Jay’s shoulders, giving him plenty of time to say no or flinch away. “You’re still hot as hell regardless.” 

“It’s what they mean, y’know?” 

“What? That you’re a badass?” The comment falls flat, and Roy wishes he could take it back. 

“That I DIED, Roy. I went through hell, and then they cut me open to figure out which particular part of hell had killed me.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t fucking apologize. Just…don’t say anything.” Jason pulls him into a hug, and they sit that way until his breathing steadies. He pulls back and stands, and Roy’s stomach sinks, wondering what he’s done wrong. 

“Here. You wanna see? This is it.” Jason slowly pulls his shirt over his head. He throws it to the ground almost defiantly. “Dead boy walking right here.” A long Y-shaped scar branches over his torso.

Roy’s not sure what to do, but he follows his gut. He and Jason had never followed the rules anyway, and there’s no guidebook for “My Sorta-Boyfriend’s a Zombie Vigilante.” Well, there probably is, but as a rule he’s not into paranormal romance.

He skims his fingers over the scar, tracing the V first and then down the tail of the Y. He shoots a look up, and Jason’s just standing there, breath caught in his throat. 

“You know what this means?” He presses a gentle kiss to the tip of the Y, then down to the juncture, then back up the other side. Jason’s breath hitches as he reaches the top, and Roy stretches up to kiss his lips. “It means you came back to me.” 


End file.
